Blood Sings
by D. M. Evans
Summary: #2 in the What Little Boys are Made of Series As Connor struggles to recover from his mental break down his progress is threatened by his past
1. Default Chapter

BLOOD SINGS

What little Boys are Made of Series Story #2

By D.M. Evans

Disclaimer – Don't own them, never will. Thanks to Joss for letting us play with them. You know the drill, I make no money off of this, please don't sue and all of that. Oh, the characters you DON'T recognize like Saeth, Savage and Rhiannon were created by me.

Rating – R

Feedback – yes please, ripewickedplum2@yahoo.com

Spoilers – all of AtS S4

Summary – Connor is recovering from a severe mental collapse after accidentally killing Cordelia, which led to him killing Gunn, and Fred but his progress is threatened by someone from his past. 

Author's Note – This story is AR following along with S4 of Angel but not exactly. This is taking place approximately one year after S4 and while you don't have to read story #1 Sins of the Father, it would help
    
    _When blood sees blood_
    
    _Of its own_
    
    _It sings to see itself again_
    
    _It sings to hear the voice it's known_

_It sings to recognize the face_

Blood Sings – Suzanne Vega 

****

"Care to explain what you're doing up there, Baby Blue?" Saeth asked, staring up into an old yew tree. The strong summer breeze ruffling his thinning hair, Giles stood next to her, looking equally perplexed.

Connor stretched out on the thick branch he was perched on like a fine, thin cat. "Just watching stuff."

"And aren't you supposed to be in a session with Savage now?" Giles, like he always did, tried to judge the boy's expressions. Connor could be inscrutable, having pretty much only one visible emotion, anger.

Connor mouthed an obscenity Giles had no doubt Savage or Saeth had taught him. If Giles hadn't been there Connor might have sworn out loud but his guardian didn't care for him doing that. Mad Dog, as most people called Saeth, didn't care. She had the worst  'potty mouth' he'd ever heard. Connor dropped effortlessly out of the tree. "Sorry. Forgot."

"Savage will probably make you detail his car as punishment." Giles flashed a cheeky grin at the boy who rolled his eyes, sighing. He had that teen affectation down pat.

"Is that normal? A therapist assigning chores?" Connor sulked, a long look falling over his face.

"No, they'd just bill you for the wasted time. But since Savage is a friend, he thinks he has the right to use you to his diabolical ends." Saeth smiled.

"Like when you make me clean your house?" Connor gave her one of his ferocious grins.

She swatted his bony backside. "Exactly."

"If we hurry we can get you to Savage's office before he gives up all hope," Giles said, herding Connor into the yew tunnel. The yew Connor had been perched in was the beginning of a project begun four hundred years prior. The landowner had sculpted and bent the yews into a massive tunnel. The effect was eerie and beautiful at the same time. Connor seemed to love it. It was the first place they thought to look for him when he didn't show to be taken into town. At least Saeth's home in Crug Hwyel didn't have the huge amounts of land attached to it like her estate in the northlands. Giles wasn't keen on Connor having expansive, desolate acreage to hide in if he got around to serious brooding, as he was wont to do. Like father, like son.

At least Connor didn't fight about seeing Savage. He actually seemed to enjoy going to therapy. Every time he saw Connor, Giles had to marvel at what he, Savage and Saeth had wrought. Within a year Connor had gone from catatonic to someone who seemed almost like a normal teen.

He got sulky within minutes of being ebullient. He bucked authority but secretly enjoying being given responsibility like his little job opening mail at the Watcher's complex in Abergavenny. He was irrepressibly horny. He begged to drive Saeth's sports car. In other words, a fairly typical teen-aged boy. He still had horrific nightmares and there were days he got so worked up he needed extra medication but those were getting less and less for which Giles was grateful. He wanted very much to help this boy, even if it was emotionally difficult. 

Giles hadn't known Gunn or Fred but Cordelia was different. While she had oft times annoyed him, he had been fond of her. At times it felt odd trying to heal her killer. He didn't doubt that Connor had accidentally killed Cordelia then suffered a several mental collapse. The boy needed help. 

  
Connor sat quietly behind Saeth as she raced him to Abergavenny and the Watcher's complex where Savage had his office. Giles followed her Harley VRSCA V- Rod.  The silver motorcycle cut through the countryside like a dagger. Connor jumped off the back of the motorcycle and Giles nearly ran him down as he raced in front of Giles' Cooper S to get into the Council building. Giles wished he knew if participating in this was the right thing to do. If they could give mass murderers like Angel, Spike and Anya a second chance could he do less for a troubled boy? Currently, Faith was proof that a life could be redeemed and she had been willingly evil.

Connor seemed to be well on his way to turning around his life. They had begun to trust him on his own. Mostly he spent time with members of Saeth's family, her nineteen-year-old nephew, Dylan and his sister, the sixteen-year-old Cerridwen; both of whom, like Saeth, were mages. Their adopted siblings, Bron and Arian, typically shadowed them. Bron was a scarce year younger than Dylan and Arian was just a month older than Cerridwen. Giles liked that Connor had people his own age around him for the first time in his life and the boy responded to their friendship better than Giles had hoped for. The gaggle of teens put him in mind of Buffy and her friends back in high school, fun-loving yet old beyond their years. And every so often Giles would get a glimpse of how lost Connor could get when it came to popular culture, how lacking his knowledge could be.

They had faked him identification papers, placing him a few years younger than he most likely was. According to his birth certificate, Connor would be eighteen in November. Savage had suggested Connor could use a few more years as a teen. He might even be teachable despite having so much knowledge lacking. No one was sure how it was determined Connor was eighteen when he entered this world. No one knew how long Quor-Tothian year was. He certainly didn't look like he was now nineteen. 

What Giles did know for certain was that in addition to helping rebuild the Council after the First had decimated it, he had been entrusted with Angel's son. He was determined to make some sort of difference in the boy's life. So far, he thought he was winning. It helped fill the void Buffy and her friends had left in him when he chose to return to home. He missed them too much. Tonight, he would call her.

*                                                                      *                                              *

"Any reason why you were so late?" Savage asked, sitting on the window seat of his office. He watched Connor pacing around the small, book-crammed room. He was used to his patients freely moving around. Body language spoke volumes. He could see Connor didn't want to be here today, which was unusual for him. Connor liked talking to him. He understood from Angel and Wesley that Connor had been taciturn most of the time. 

Connor shrugged, his slim shoulders, spinning the gemstone globe Savage had on a bookshelf. "I lost track of time."

"Why do you think that happened?"

Connor flung himself onto the overstuffed chair. "I don't have a watch." Connor's lips twitched up a bit.

Savage snorted. "Cheeky bugger. Seriously, Connor, you're rarely late. Why did you forget today?"

Connor sighed, tears suddenly sheening his eyes.  Savage made a note of it even though it was hard to ignore the boy's pain. He was too close to his patient. By rights he should refer Connor out but he knew Connor wouldn't understand even if he found another Watcher psychiatrist who'd take him on. "I don't know why I'm here talking to you all the time."

Savage got up from the window seat, going to his cluttered desk. He wasn't expecting  that answer. He thought they were making headway and that Connor liked being here. "Do you think that these sessions aren't helping you?"

Connor tugged at his hair so hard Savage thought the boy's scalp would bleed. "No, I think they're helping a lot. I feel so much better after I leave here."

Savage's blue eyes widened. His patients rarely complained about feeling better. "And this is a problem, why?"

"I don't deserve to feel better. I deserve punishment. I murdered my friends…a woman I loved and I haven't been punished." Connor thumped his head on the chair.

"Some people would say several months catatonic and a long road of healing ahead of you is punishment, Connor. What sort of punishment do you think you deserve?" Savage refrained from going to him. He wanted Connor to work through this without coddling.

"Death," Connor whispered past the hand he had thrown over his mouth. Tears streamed down his face, over his long, slender fingers. His body shook as his breath came in ragged pants.

Savage let Connor's emotions run wild before confronting the problem. "Do you think you should die, Connor?"

"Eye for an eye." Connor propelled himself out of the chair, heading for Savage's desk. The psychiatrist tensed. He didn't have Saeth and her magic to protect him if Connor got physical.

"That Bible verse actually only applies to hurting pregnant women, did you know that?" Savage's voice remained even and calm, hoping Connor would respond to his tone.

Connor nodded. "I know the Bible. Father made sure." He backed away, snatching the kaleidoscope off Savage's desk. He spun the end of it, looking at the  colors then whispered, "Why is everyone helping me?"

"You never would have gone to court, Connor. Not like you were when I first met you. Even now I'm not sure they'd proceed. If they did, you'd spend the rest of your life in jail or be in a mental hospital for a long time. Do you think that's what you deserve?" Savage watched his patient's face. Connor's affect was disturbingly flat.

"I don't know," Connor said. "I should be like Faith."

Savage absently scrubbed a hand through his nearly black hair. "How so?"

Connor sat back down, the kaleidoscope dangling from his fingers. "She took her punishment, twenty-five to life."

"Is that what you want? Jailed?" Savage prodded.

Dropping the kaleidoscope, Connor sobbed, curling up on the chair, face tucked against his bony knees. He couldn't speak for several minutes. Thinking this might be prelude to one of Connor's full-blown panic attacks or the self-injurious phase of his illness, Savage took out some syringes and two bottles, Ativan and Thorazine; the first for anxiety and the latter if Connor got physical. Neither injection were needed as Connor slowly calmed on his own.

"Please don't give me more medication," Connor pleaded, still tucked into a ball.

"We can hold off for now." Savage hated giving the boy the drugs. The side effects were severe. While on the thorazine, Connor ended up vomiting with headaches so bad he could barely move and the ativan left him zombie-like. It was bad enough that he still had to give Connor both daily but every few weeks he lowered the dose, hoping Connor would no longer need them soon.

Connor wiped his face then reached for a tissue. "I don't want to die but I should be punished."

Savage put away the medication. "We've talked about that before."

"I know. You think what happened to me is punishment," Connor said, tapping his forehead. The maniac look returned to Connor's face but Savage knew that didn't mean much. Connor always smiled like that.

"You don't?"

"It's not enough." Connor snapped, his fingers going back to ripping at his hair.

"Connor…" Savage said softly, hoping to halt the self-injury before he was forced to dig out the thorazine again.

"I know. Let's talk about why I feel like this. How about we don't?" Connor lips skinned back in a sneer. "And I know, you can't help me unless I talk to you."

Savage just smiled gently. He could handle smart mouth Connor. The boy got that way but when he did it had more to do with teenaged attitude than mental distress. "You're certainly in a bad mood today."

 "I know." Connor snorted.  "Mad Dog would say I had a full helping of bitchy today and I don't know why. It's just that I started thinking about Cordy while I was out in the woods today. I started to miss her all over again." His chest heaved as he struggled with his emotions. "Why did she have to do it?"

Savage found that curious and pounced on it. Connor had never suggested Cordy had ever done anything. "Do what?"  
  


"She started tapping into her demon power. She was angry the Beast didn't kill us. She was sick and couldn't use her magic so she got a knife." Connor rattled that off flatly.

Savage set aside his notebook, getting to his feet. "What?"

"She was going to kill me with a knife. I…I." Connor canted his head up, staring at Savage with huge blue eyes. "Why haven't I ever remembered this before?"

Savage crossed over and brushed Connor's hair back. The boy could use a trim and the psychiatrist could see Dylan and Bron's influences in the tips of Connor's hair – or maybe it was the girls' effect – which had been bleached nearly white. It was a startling effect when the teen moved. "Connor, you have a lot locked up inside you. You've never been able to remember that day clearly."

"I'm not making this up then? It was real? She came at  me with a knife?" Connor's lips trembled. His whole body began to shake.

"Tell me what you're remembering, Connor." Savage went back to his desk and his note pad. He wanted to hold the boy and comfort him. He had to squelch that bit of unprofessionalism.

"She was angry that we weren't dead. She came after me to cut out my heart. That's what she said. I pushed her because I didn't want to really hurt her. I just wanted to get her away from me so I'd have room to maneuver and get the knife away from her. Oh God, I pushed her and she hit her head. She died just like that. It was my fault." The last word came as a choked note.

"Breathe, Connor," Savage instructed, seeing the flood of anxiety rushing into the boy's face. "Vampires."

"Fire, stake to the heart, holy water, sunlight, decapitation," Connor muttered, starting his calming mantra. "Werewolves,  silver weapons."

Savage listened to him go through a few more stanzas of his mantra. He knew it was somewhat disturbing that a how-to of demon killing calmed the boy but it usually worked. When Connor was breathing more easily, he asked, "Can you tell me more about that day? What happened after you pushed Cordelia and realized she was dead?"

Connor gulped for air. "I was trying to wake her up and Lorne came downstairs. He just started blaming me for killing Cordy. He didn't ask what happened. He had to have heard. He has hearing like a vampire. He called me a murderer. Why didn't he hear what Cordy said?" Connor paused, pressing his fists against his wet eyes. "He ran for the weapons. I didn't murder her. I didn't mean to hurt her but Lorne wouldn't listen. He was getting a weapon to hurt me." Connor made a hiccupping gasp. "He wanted me dead."

"And that's why you attacked him?" Savage wrote furiously, finally having something to help understand the chaos surrounding his charge.

"I don't remember. I must have, right?" Connor rubbed his hands along his thigh, his brow wrinkling as he tried to force the memories. "I killed him and then Gunn and Fred must have come in afterwards and seen the bodies. But I don't remember, Savage. I don't remember anything after Lorne ran for the weapons. Why?" That last came as a piteous cry.

Savage thought for a moment, trying to figure out what might comfort him. "It's your mind's way of protecting your conscious self, Connor."

"Should I tell the others?" Connor reached for the tissues again.

"That's up to you. It'll be the only way they'll ever know the truth. We'll be making the weekly call to your father tonight. You decide if you feel ready to tell Angel what you've remembered." Savage thought it was important for Connor to make his own choices and feel like they had confidence in him. Thinking no one had faith in him could be crippling.

"I still don't…" He twisted his hands in his hair again. "Is it real or is it just what I want to believe? It's easier to think I was just protecting myself but maybe I just killed them because I'm evil."

"I can't tell you if you're making it up, Connor, but I don't think you're evil.  I can tell you there was a knife found by Cordelia's body," Savage said, watching his patient's expression.

Connor's lips parted and he mulled that for a moment. "So it could have been like I remember?"

"Yes." Savage set aside his notepad. "How are you feeling right now, Connor?"

"Bad but sort of glad it's all out now. I feel like something is happening in here." Connor tapped his chest. "You're not going to give me extra medicine now are you?"

"I'm trying to keep you off the medicine as much as possible. Today's been pretty rough for you though," Savage said. "You might benefit from an extra dose."

Connor's face twisted up. "I don't want more medication. I don't like the way it makes me feel."

"That's why I want to wean you off your daily meds. But I won't give you any additional medication today," Savage decided. 

Connor's slim shoulders heaved. "Thank you."

"I think we've had enough," Savage said. "I'll see you tonight."

Connor just nodded and let himself out of the office. He knew he was expected to go to Giles' office so he could get a ride home. He didn't really want to face Giles or Saeth with swollen red eyes and a wet face but he knew he didn't need to get into any trouble. He made his way through the narrow hallways, dark and claustrophobic in a building so old he couldn't fathom it. Saeth was with Giles sorting through a box of books. She dropped her book and ran over to Connor.

"Baby Blue, are you all right?" She ran a hand up his arm as she called him by the pet name her great grandmother had given him. Rhiannon had started calling him that back before he had come out of his catatonia. She said it was because of his sweet blue eyes. Connor had come to like the name. It gave him a sense of belonging and family.

Connor nodded. "It was…I remembered a little about that night," he said, pressing closer to her.

She embraced him tightly. "Do you want to tell us about it?"

  
Connor snuggled against her then looked over at Giles and simply nodded. He let her sit him down and Giles pressed a cup of tea into his hands. Connor braced himself and tried to tell his story again without crying. He almost succeeded.


	2. Dreams

CHAPTER TWO

_One body split and passed along the line  
From the shoulder to the hip  
I know these bones as being mine  
And the curving of the lip _

Blood Sings – Suzanne Vega 

"You're certainly being a downer, Connor," Dylan said, slinging his wheat gold hair back out of his eyes. He lounged back on his wooden chair, trailing a finger over his pint glass, catching a rivulet of ale.

"Did your talk with your _tad_ go bad?" Bron asked.

Connor shook his head, having learned that '_tad'_ was Welsh for 'father.'  His conversation with Angel last night had been hard but good in some ways. At least he got to tell Angel how Cordy had tried to kill him, to maybe make some sense of what had happened. Angel had been quieter than normal during that then asked him to tell his story again to Wesley. That hurt because Connor felt like his dad didn't believe him and needed someone else to judge the truth of the story.

Connor also understood Bron's reservations. When Bron was a boy, his father had beaten his mother to death and left his sister, Arian, blind. Bron had a pretty grim opinion of fathers despite the gentle rearing his adoptive father, Evan Maddoc, had given him. Knowing Bron and Savage, who also had been raised by adoptive fathers, made Connor feel easy with still feeling deep love for Holtz and the fathering he had provided him. He knew it was all right to love an adoptive father, that it didn't make him bad for putting the love he should have had for his real dad elsewhere. And he was learning it was just as all right to have feelings for his real father. Neither Bron nor Savage did because their fathers had been bad men. His father was a monster and yet Connor was learning that he did care for Angel. It confused Connor, conflicted with all he had grown up believing but those tender feelings were there and he couldn't root them out. He stared at Bron and Dylan, realizing they expected an answer. "Just had a bad session with Savage yesterday and a bad night. I'm feeling dark."

"Which makes you the perfect lunch buddy." Bron rolled his brown eyes. "Too bad you can't have a drink."

"If I get caught drinking when I'm not old enough again, Mad Dog will beat my ass," Connor said, casting a furtive look around the Hen and Chickens pub as if he were already guilty. 

"As if you wouldn't enjoy that," Dylan said, flinging a chip at Connor who swatted the hot greasy thing away.

Connor's pale cheeks blazed red. "Shut up. Besides, Savage says alcohol doesn't mix with my medication."

"Since when has that stopped you?" Bron downed a portion of his Carling Black Label. 

  
Connor gave him a two-fingered salute and the other boy snorted, having been the one to teach Connor the gesture in the first place. "I have to go to work unlike you two sluhks."

"Oh yeah, the Council will come apart if their file clerk gets drunk," Bron shot back.

"One of these days we're going to have to look up what a slukh is," Dylan put in. "I want to know what you're comparing us to."

"I'll have Giles put it on your next Watcher's test." Connor managed a smile.

Dylan snorted. "Evil."

  
Connor smiled more whole-heartedly. He enjoyed spending time with Dylan and Bron. They made him feel normal. They helped him escape the pain of what he had done to Cordelia and the others, if only for a little while. They knew what he was and what he had done but they passed no judgments. With them, he felt like any other teenager. He felt like he belonged and he couldn't begin to describe how good it felt. He crammed down the last of his fish and got up. "I should get to work."

"Get going. If you're late, Mad Dog will blame us and while you might want a good paddling, I don't," Dylan said, his blue eyes dancing. "At least not from my aunt."

"I do not," Connor hissed, feeling his blush flaring even hotter. It didn't help thinking about Mad Dog like that made him warm and tingly. He knew everyone was aware he had a crush on Mad Dog. Most of them thought it was cute. He found it frustrating since she was well aware of it but had told him in no uncertain terms that she was his guardian and guardians didn't take advantage of their charges. He didn't see it as been taken advantage of and he'd told her that but it hadn't changed her stance. And, damn it, he was horny. He couldn't help it.

"We saw you eyeing that whip collection Mad Dog has," Bron said.

"You guys suck." Connor left them laughing at him. He didn't mind being ribbed. He had learned the difference between good-natured joking and insults. He knew they were just trying to wind him up which in all reality probably wasn't their smartest option. 

"Don't forget, we're all getting together at the Cockroach tonight," Dylan called after him.

"I'll be there." Connor went out onto Flannel Street, the warm air caressing him. Summer was just around the corner but it wasn't brightening his heart. It had been a year since he had killed his friends. The actual day had come and gone. He had spent it curled into a ball wedged in the roots of an ancient tree under the bracken fern half way up the Skirrid. He had ran, seemingly forever, from Crug Hwyel all the way to that hill, after knocking down both Giles and Savage to get out of the house. 

Usually Connor enjoyed his walks to the Council headquarters but he felt depressed. He couldn't escape thinking that he shouldn't be feeling anything. He should have been punished, removed from the world for what he had done. He didn't consider his mental collapse as punishment. Yes, he suffered, sometimes greatly, but not enough. It needed to be more. Three months he had been completely catatonic. He had vague memories of it, peaceful, calm. He missed it. Living was hard. At least going to the Cockroach would give him something to look forward to. The bar was actually called Grasshoppers but everyone seemed to like calling it the Cockroach. He knew Dylan, Bron and Cerridwen could lift his spirits. Arian preferred not going to pubs and he missed her when she wasn't with their group.

Connor heard heavy footsteps racing up behind him, moments before something cold and wet pressed against his flesh just where his shirt met his belt. He whirled and saw Caniad was behind him. He ran a hand over the hound's massive head.

"You bad girl. You're not supposed to sneak out of the yard."

She licked his hands. Caniad was his dog now, Mad Dog assured him. Caniad was her seven-year-old Irish wolfhound. Mad Dog said the hound had taken to him from the day he was brought to her home, still catatonic, and had gone out of her way to be with him ever since. She even jumped the fence and would come find him in town, making the trek from Crug Hwyel to Abergavenny. At nearly a hundred pounds and nearly three feet at the shoulder, Caniad made an impressive sight loping alongside the road.

"Come on, then. Might as well come to work with me. I'm already late."

She butted him with her brindled head and followed him to the Watchers' headquarters. No one even raised an eyebrow at the massive dog until he got to the library. The old woman at the desk glanced up, peering through her thick glasses then smoothed back her long mane of white curls.

"Followed you again?" Rhiannon smiled at him.

  
Connor grinned back. He couldn't put into words the adoration he felt for Saeth's great grandmother. Rhiannon made him feel like family, had even made him an honorary Maddoc. He still felt embarrassed when he remembered how he had bawled when she first called him grandson. She had gifted him with the one thing he had wanted all his life, a real family, something beyond just him and his father.

"She was waiting outside the pub," Connor said. "Giles said I was to help here today. What do you need me to do?"

"All those books need to go back on the shelves." Rhiannon gestured with an arthritic hand at the haphazard pile of books on a wide and probably ancient wooden table. "I will be very happy when the London branch is completely rebuilt. We're not set up to house this many scholars. You would think they'd at least pick up after themselves."

"Don't worry about it, _Nain_," he said, addressing her as grandmother. "I'll do it."

"And then you can sort through the document room. Save that for last. I'm not ready to hear your screams of terror when you see that place." She wagged her head.

Connor sighed. He hated that room. It was hot, windowless and it was haunted. Even he could feel the ghosts in there. Probably some long dead Watcher who just couldn't give up the post. He didn't doubt Rhiannon's spirit would cling to this place long after she was gone. "You can help haul the cart, Caniad."

"Good luck with getting work out of that beast, Baby Blue," Rhiannon said. "And you'll be at Grasshoppers tonight, correct?"

"Yes, _Nain_." Connor started piling books onto the cart so he could shelve them. He admired Rhiannon. She went out to the pubs every Friday night and danced. She made her own dresses for these events. It didn't matter to her that Grasshoppers was the hang out of the young and stupid. At a hundred and fourteen, she was still going strong. Her appearances at the pubs might only last an hour or two but the patrons loved her, especially the young. She proved you didn't have to get old.

 Rhiannon came to work every day to preside devotedly over her beloved library. He knew she had once been a powerful witch and now mostly just guided others. Giles had taken Willow to talk to Rhiannon once when she was recovering from her own mental breakdown. Giles had told him so many stories about Buffy and her friends, he felt like he knew them. And he had learned more about his father that way, things that were good and bright about him. Things that took Connor by surprise, like how Angel had rescued Giles, Willow and Xander from a gas-filled room or saved Buffy from the Three and from the aspect of the demon that threatened to drive her mad, and how he had traded his own body to save Jenny from Eyghon. It helped balance out the horrible things he knew Angel had done.

It took him nearly two hours to get all the books put away. He didn't mind. He liked having a break from filing and opening the mail. Of course, shelving books was pretty much filing but occasionally he'd sneak peeks and they were much more entertaining than filing. But he couldn't put off the document room any longer.

He sighed, seeing documents strewn all over the tables. He felt the eyes of the dead on him as he sorted the heaps into usable piles. He didn't much like ghosts. He took one and sat on the floor to put them in the ground level file box. Caniad collapsed her colossal body down on the floor, stretching to her full six feet in length. She blew out a long doggie sigh as her eyes closed.

"I know how you feel," Connor said, resting back against her. Not only did his dog nearly outweigh him but she was taller, too. He sort of resented it but he loved her. He pressed his face against her wiry fur and promptly fell asleep.

*                                                          *                                                          *

_Connor heard something behind him in the woods. Caniad growled low in her throat. Connor turned but all he saw was fog. Giles had warned him never to go walking in the woods by himself at night, not on nights like this when the fog was so thick he would never see the danger before it got him. He sniffed the air, heavy with moisture. The only scents were of dampness and dog and the tang of his own sweat. He rubbed a hand over Caniad's long slender back and it came away wet. Connor stared at his palm, red with blood. His eyes widened as he looked down at his companion, seeing her brindled coat covered in gore._

_Connor turned, certain now he wasn't alone despite the lack of olfactory clues. He couldn't breathe. Standing before him, Cordelia moved toward him, cloaked in fog. It swirled around her like a shroud, going into one of her empty eye sockets and back out the other._

_"Why, Connor?"  Fog poured out of her mouth as she spoke. "I wasn't ready to die."_

_He whirled, unable to face her. Behind him stood Lorne, his head in his hands. His horrid orange-red eyes were gone as well but his mouth still worked despite not having lungs to give him voice. "Murderer."_

_Sobbing, Connor broke away, racing deeper into the fog. Caniad didn't follow him. Her body was dissolving into a puddle of tissue and blood that he could still see even though he had turned away from her. He leapt over a fallen tree and nearly landed on top of Gunn and Fred. Their torsos arose from a mass of bubbling bloody flesh, two beings braided into one. More vapor trickled from their eyeless sockets._

_"Why?" they asked together. "Why did we have to die?"_

_  
Connor tried to run but his murdered friends surrounded him, pinning him to the moss-covered trees,  their chorus of 'Why?' deafening him._

*                                                          *                                                          *

"Rhiannon, where is Connor?" Giles entered the library having waited for several minutes for his charge to come to his office to be taken home.

Rhiannon tried to pretend she hadn't been asleep at her desk. "Rupert, don't sneak up on an old woman like that."

  
He shot her a cheeky grin. "Sorry. Have you seen him?"

"Last seen he was in the document room. The dust bunnies might have eaten him by now."

"Protect me, I'm going in." His smile widened and she swatted him lightly as she got up. Her walking stick today had a handle carved like a grinning skull. Giles knew he'd never understand Rhiannon's sense of humor.

They both went into the document room and saw Connor asleep on the floor, using Caniad as a pillow. The young man kicked in his sleep.

"Oh dear, he's having another nightmare." Giles said, putting out a hand to stop Rhiannon even though he knew she knew better than to approach Connor when he was in this state. 

"Baby Blue," she called sharply. "Wake up, sweetling."

Connor sat up with a scream. Caniad struggled to her feet, overbalancing Connor who fell back against the shelving. The dog barreled out of the room, nearly taking Giles out with her. Connor took a deep breath then broke into tears.

Rhiannon went to him, running her hand through his hair. He curled up over his knees.  "It was just a dream, Baby Blue."

"No, no it wasn't," he sobbed.

"Connor, it was a dream," Giles said.

"They were all looking at me but they didn't have any eyes," he wailed. "They wanted to know why I killed them."

Giles knelt down with him and Connor hugged him so hard the Watcher thought his ribs would break. "I know it had to be terrifying, Connor, but it was a dream."

"Why can't it be ghosts? There are ghosts here," Connor said, sniffling, his death grip not releasing in the least.

"Do you trust me, Connor?" Giles asked and the boy nodded, his head against Giles' chest. "It was a dream." Giles wished that had sounded more convincing. He could only hope that it wasn't ghosts.

"It'll get better in time, Baby Blue. I know you don't believe that or even want it right now but it's true," Rhiannon said. "Come on, now. Let's get you up. You need to go home and get some good food in you. And you will dance with me tonight."

Connor wiped his face, trying to find a thankful smile for her. "Okay."

Giles helped Connor up. Caniad came back to claim her boy. Rhiannon escorted them out, kissing Connor's cheek before he got into the car. He curled up on the seat, the seat belt all but throttling him. He knew it wasn't a dream and that he deserved all their wrath.

  



	3. Back in LA

CHAPTER THREE And my question to you is:  
  
How did this come to pass?  
  
How did this one life fall so far and fast? Suzanne Vega - Blood Sings  
  
Angel sat on the inside steps of the large Queen Anne home that now housed Angel Investigations. Wesley lived up on the second and third floor of the spacious home. No one had the heart to go back to the hotel once it was cleaned. Angel only lived in the world, working to help others, because of Wes and Faith's constant prodding. He would have been content to return to his life as it was before Whistler had disrupted everything by pointing out Buffy to him.  
  
Wes was his only link to Connor. Angel no longer had a phone or even a home. He had gone backwards in his lifestyle. He wasn't on the streets draining rats but he was holed up in a large crypt. He'd forget to eat until the hunger tore at him like a living thing. He knew punishing himself benefitted no one but he couldn't seem to help himself.  
  
Wes kept after Angel to move into his home. The basement was roomy enough but Angel didn't want company. He was half shocked that Faith had lived with Wes as a roommate, as opposed to a lover, at least for a little while. She had moved out once she felt secure enough in her freedom and lived with Kate Lockley who had joined Angel Investigations. Kate's renewed presence in his life stunned Angel.  
  
Kate had approached Wes at Cordelia's funeral to express her condolences. Later, she tracked Wes down just to talk. Kate had run all the way to Wisconsin after things had gone bad for her. She regained her sense of self, lost her will to die, sobered up and had come back to Los Angeles. She had wanted to stay away from the weirdness but it wouldn't keep its distance from her, not even in America's Dairyland. She shared tales of windingos and carnivorous kangaroos.  
  
Angel didn't interact much with any of them. He had no interest in their work, feeling dead inside. He left Wes and Faith, and now Kate, to carry on Cordelia's creation, bolstered by the addition of Kate's agency, thought many of Kate's detectives jumped ship when Angel Investigations added too much freakiness to their lives. His heart wasn't in it. All he did was the dangerous stuff that they couldn't and only because he had to. He owed it to Cordelia, Gunn and Fred.  
  
What really hurt was that the team ran smoothly, almost too smoothly. There wasn't the constant susurrus of bickering and in-fighting that had always plagued his former makeshift family. He didn't know if that meant this team was better or maybe everyone was just so raw they were going out of their way to get along and work hard. Angel understand that last bit. If they kept working, they could keep their loss pushed to the back of their hearts where it hurt less.  
  
Faith came over to him, reaching through the railing to pat his foot. "Kate and I are going to check out a lead on that ghoul sighting over at the Cat N' Fiddle Pub."  
  
"Kate, can you handle that alone? Maybe we should wait on it," Angel said. He didn't want tp risk Kate but he also didn't want her around for this talk so he was hoping this lead would be something she could handle on her own.  
  
"What's up?" Kate gave him a curious look.  
  
"Just a little something dealing with Faith." Angel didn't meet Kate's eyes. He hated lying to her but she still didn't know what had happened with Connor. Angel thought she might have her suspicions since she was the one to call them when Cordelia's pregnancy revealed horrors on the autopsy table.  
  
"No problem. I can question a few scumbag humans on my own," Kate said, then off Angel's worried look, "I'll be careful."  
  
"Thanks Kate."  
  
Faith waited until Kate was gone before asking, "What's wrong, Angel? You've been acting weird ever since you talked to Connor last night.or should I say, more weird?"  
  
Angel let that pass. "I'll tell you as soon as he gets here."  
  
Faith tossed her hair back, a hint of hunger flashing across her face. "He who?"  
  
A knock on the door answered Faith. She opened it and saw Lorne standing there, a dour look on his green face. She stepped aside and let him in. She looked a bit disappointed that it wasn't more promising male company.  
  
"Hey, Lorne." She cast an uneasy glance between him and Angel.  
  
He managed a sight smile for her. "Hello Faith, Wes." His vividly colored eyes fixed on Angel and the temperature of his voice went arctic as he added, "Angel." "It's good to see you, Lorne. Please, have a seat." Wes gestured to the overstuffed couch in front of the ornate fireplace in the living room cum waiting area.  
  
"Can I ask why you wanted me to come here?" Lorne sat, tossing a cold look at Angel who forced himself to sit in a wing-backed chair. He didn't need to pace the room, intimidating everyone.  
  
Angel didn't begrudge Lorne his hostilities. Lorne hadn't forgiven him for shielding Connor. He had expected the demon to maybe go back to Los Vegas or head to New York City after the funerals but instead he was setting up Caritas once again. He knew Lorne spoke to Wes and Faith regularly but not to him.  
  
"Lorne, this isn't going to be easy." Angel shoved his hands in his pockets, not looking at his one time friend.  
  
"I already don't like this," Lorne interrupted.  
  
"I spoke to Connor." Angel ignored Lorne. "He remembered that night."  
  
Faith and Lorne's eyes widened. Angel and Wes had kept the secret all day. Angel could see the questions knocking at their lips to get out.  
  
"So you called me here to tell me the little killer remembered cutting my head off." Lorne's words hit like acid.  
  
Angel took a deep breath, dragging his hands out of his pockets. He spun the ring he wore round and round nervously. "Actually he doesn't remember attacking anyone other than Cordy."  
  
"What does he remember?" Faith perched on the sturdy slate coffee table, staring up at Angel.  
  
"Cordelia attacking him first, trying to kill him," Angel said simply. For a moment there was complete silence except for Faith's surprised gulp of air.  
  
"And you bought that?" Lorne's eyes bugged. "Angel, you aren't this stupid. He's just trying to make us feel sorry for him."  
  
"Lorne, you did say that you heard Cordelia telling Connor she wished she had her power so she could kick his ass," Wesley reminded him.  
  
"Yes, because Connor was trying to hurt her." Lorne waved the slim one-time Watcher off.  
  
"Is that what you heard, Lorne, or what you assumed?" Angel stared at the demon.  
  
Lorne opened his mouth, smartassed response on the tip of his tongue but he swallowed it. He averted his eyes. "I don't.I don't know."  
  
"Try to remember exactly what you heard, Lorne. I know this doesn't change things. But if we could learn what caused all of this," Angel trailed off, looking at his big hands. He wanted desperately to do something with them but he didn't know what.  
  
"What? It'll give us some peace?" Lorne sneered.  
  
"It can't hurt." Faith shrugged. She had been more than willing to extend forgiveness and understanding to Connor. She knew what Angel and Wes' forgiving her had done for her psyche.  
  
"On the phone, Connor told me she had a knife. We found a knife under the desk. I need to know why Cordy had it, Lorne. We assumed she was protecting herself from Connor. What if she was the one who went after him?" Angel's dark eyes bore into the Pylean.  
  
Lorne scrubbed a hand over his chin. "I didn't hear much. Like I said I was asleep when the shouting woke me." He paused, his brow wrinkling. "I thought it was all a dream until I heard Cordy's scream and that terrible crack.when her head hit the desk." Lorne wet his lips with the tip of his tongue. "Connor did say something about dropping a knife. Before that Cordy was saying she'd cut out his heart and tell you the Beast got him."  
  
Angel came across the table at Lorne but Faith caught him and hurled him back. He spun away from all of them, pacing over to the huge, impractical windows. "Why in the hell didn't you ever tell us that? It's been a year, Lorne. You never once thought to tell me Cordy threatened to kill my son?"  
  
"I thought it was a dream, Angel. The screaming woke me from a dead sleep. I thought it was a nightmare from all the stress and Beast stuff," Lorne said defensively.  
  
"You still should have told me," Angel growled. "Lorne, do you remember anything else?" Wesley asked quietly, hoping to derail Angel's rage. "Anything that you might have thought was a dream then but upon reflection it might not have been?"  
  
Lorne shook his head. "No.maybe something about handling us. But it doesn't make any sense. It had to be a nightmare. Look, Angel, I wish I could tell you more, really. I can't forgive the kid for what he did to me even if it's not all his fault. Maybe he did lose his mind that night. I'm sure that's a foregone conclusion at this point since he can't be that good of an actor. But." Lorne let his thoughts go to vapor.  
  
"But what?" Faith prompted, now on her feet, keeping herself between the pacing Angel and Lorne.  
  
"There was something very odd about that night before all the ugliness. I was worried sick about you all going up against the Beast and yet I couldn't stay awake."  
  
"You mentioned feeling odd about that before," Wesley said.  
  
Lorne nodded, a contemplative look settling on his face as if he was finally allowing himself to put the puzzle pieces together. "Cordy made me a Sea Breeze to settle my nerves and the next thing I know I can't keep my eyes open."  
  
"Are you saying Cordelia drugged you?" Angel paused in front of the fireplace and the immense mirror above it. It had come with the house and Angel hated it. He knew it was disconcerting for everyone.  
  
"I wrote it off as a strange coincidence but nothing like that has ever happened to me before. If Cordy tried to kill Connor, it could be she tried to take me out of the picture, to 'handle us.' But why?" Lorne asked.  
  
"I don't know." Angel let his head rest back against the marble mantle piece. "If Cordy drugged you and wanted her powers to kill my son then we're left with more questions than answers."  
  
"Like what does it all mean? Why would Cordelia want to harm any of us?" Wes's face reflected the disturbed pain they were all feeling.  
  
"You told me back then that you thought the Beast had someone controlling it, that it was just the muscle. Angelus remembered that much," Faith said. "I hate saying it but-" "No," Angel snapped. "Cordelia couldn't have been the Beast's master. It makes no sense."  
  
"Well, none of this does. If Lorne really did hear that stuff, then Connor was the one protecting himself, not Cordy," Faith shot back.  
  
"He really did love her," Wesley put in. "Accidentally killing her shattered him and the rest.I'm not sure we can blame him for it, being in the fugue he was in. I spoke to Connor last night as well. He convinced me his memories are true. Lorne, you said that night Connor might have interpreted you trying to get a weapon to protect yourself from him as an attack. If Cordelia had already tried killing him, there's no telling what was going through his mind when he attacked you."  
  
"Maybe not and it doesn't really matter now, does it? She's dead. Gunn and Fred are dead and so is the Beast." Lorne got up. "Maybe these aren't bones you should be digging up, Angel. You may not like what you uncover."  
  
"I don't have a choice. Connor is doing the digging. He has to if he wants to get well." Angel took a deep breath. "But the truth is not going to set us free, is it?"  
  
Wesley wagged his head. "No."  
  
Lorne straightened his goldenrod jacket. "If I remember anything else, Angel, I'll tell you. Caritas opens this weekend. The best table in the house is reserved for you." He met Angel's eyes. "All of you."  
  
The vampire nodded. "We'll be there. And Lorne, I am sorry."  
  
The demon looked away again. "I know this is hard on you, Angel. I know that you lost loved ones that night, too, but I'm still not convinced not holding Connor responsible is the right thing to have done."  
  
"I know but I am." Angel's tone warned against more arguing. "Dr. Savage agreed. Connor would have been put in a mental hospital maybe for the rest of his life or until he freaked out and with his strength accidentally killed someone else. I did what I thought was best and I'm not going to apologize for it."  
  
Lorne looked at Angel sadly then showed himself out the door.  
  
Wes put a hand on Angel's shoulder. "Is there anything I can do, Angel?"  
  
"Just handle business like always." Angel shrugged him off. "I need to be alone."  
  
Angel headed out into the courtyard. It was tidy and completely British in its gardens. He knew Wesley was the one attending to it as a hobby to relax him. He appreciated the effort. It made him feel calm. He sat on a bench near a eucalyptus tree and stared up at the stars. He heard Faith coming out the door before he smelled her perfume. He knew yelling at her to go away wasn't likely to work. She pushed onto the bench with him.  
  
"I really do want to be alone, Faith."  
  
"We don't always get what we want." She cocked her head up to star gaze with him. "Are you going to let it drop here or are you going to dig into what Cordelia might have or not have done?"  
  
"I don't know yet. I can't help thinking if I don't, and if whatever was controlling the Beast wasn't Cordy, it'll still be out there. I know it won't bring anyone back and we couldn't tell their families even if we learn anything. They're content that it was a maniac who killed our friends and that he's dead, too. I want it to stay that way as far as they're concerned." Angel shuddered slightly as remembering that night tormented him. He would never be able to forget he had pretended to kill his friends and let himself be shot by the cops just so the case would be closed. The smells of the morgue still seemed fresh in his nose.  
  
"I get that. And I know Wes has been looking into whoever might have been controlling the Beast ever since it happened. He never learned much but then again he never even considered it might be Cordy," Faith said.  
  
"And maybe he shouldn't." Angel sighed. "I just wish there was some easy answers for a change."  
  
"I hear that." Faith clamped a hand on his knee. "So, what else did the little hottie have to say?"  
  
Angel snorted. "I wish you wouldn't call him that."  
  
"Why not? It's true. Like father, like son." She flashed him her best seductive grin.  
  
Angel fought to ignore her flirtation. "From what Giles has told me, that's Connor's number one most hated cliché." Angel managed a wan smile. "He was too upset to tell me much other than what he remembered. Giles said Connor's doing really good with his studies and that he's having fun hanging out with Saeth's nieces and nephews. Saeth mentioned something about Connor going with her to blacksmith at a Renaissance Faire, whatever that means."  
  
Faith laughed. "It means she's dressing your kid like a dork and letting him hang with the other geeks." "If he likes it, I don't really care. He's doing normal things, Faith, probably for the first time in his life."  
  
"And no big bads to mess it up."  
  
Angel shook his head. "I didn't say that. Saeth, Savage and Giles are all Watchers. There are problems enough with helping to rebuild the Council. And Saeth said there are bad things afoot in Wales. She mentioned something about a mage that's been a thorn in their sides for twenty years now. I guess he's made a reappearance but I can't worry too much about that. I know Connor is in good hands. He'll never be completely normal, this ugliness will always be a part of his life."  
  
"Normal's overrated anyhow." Faith got up. "Just don't mope out here too long. I'm going to go catch up with Kate."  
  
"Be careful," Angel said, "And thanks, Faith."  
  
"Any time."  
  
Angel watched her saunter off. Maybe he should talk to Savage about coming to Wales for a visit. It sounded like Connor might finally be ready for that. Maybe seeing him would help Connor remember more about that night. Or maybe it would just make him worse. Either way, he'd bring it up to the psychiatrist the next time they spoke. He wanted answers even if he was bound to hate them. 


	4. Surprises

Some are lean and some with grace, and some without;  
  
All tell the story that repeats  
  
Of a child who had been left alone at birth  
  
Left to fend and taught to fight  
  
Suzanne Vega - Blood Sings  
  
CHAPTER FOUR  
  
"Having a good time?" Cerridwen draped her arms around Connor's shoulders, stretching out along his back. She nearly squashed him onto the small table they had made theirs inside the Grasshoppers Pub.  
  
He looked at her, bemused. He loved her green eyes and her raven hair. Cerridwen was beautiful but he had come to think of her as a sister. Still, the soft giving feel of her breasts against his back was more than a little pleasant. "Yeah, I can't believe Rhiannon made me dance with her."  
  
"She warned you she would. You're getting slow dancing down pretty good." She smiled encouragingly as she let go of him and sat down.  
  
Connor returned the smile. "Thanks to you."  
  
"You do like practicing." Cerridwen tapped his nose and Connor could feel a blush rising in his cheeks. "You're cute when you're all shy."  
  
Connor stared at his empty water glass, his face getting hotter. "I'm not shy."  
  
"That's why you're red all the way to here." She ticked a finger against his ear. "Are you going to dance with me?'  
  
He nodded. "If they play another slow song."  
  
"Girls like fast dancing, Connor. You're not going to see much action sitting along the wall." Cerridwen slapped a hand on his thigh; that wasn't unpleasant either. "I know Bron and Dylan are trying to teach you how to dance."  
  
"And I'm no good," he said, decisively.  
  
"Connor, you can remember intricate fight moves, you should be able to find a rhythm and dance at least as good as..." Cerridwen swept a hand out to indicate the small dance area, where the young patrons mostly bopped and swayed in place. "any of these losers."  
  
He pouted. "Well, I can't."  
  
"Says the man who's not shy." Cerridwen kissed his cheek and bounced off.  
  
Connor touched the flesh her lips had pressed against. Dylan assured him that Cerridwen had no interest in him sexually, that she was merely a friendly girl. He half thought his friend was lying to him because he didn't want his sister involved with the son of two vampires and a known murderer. He didn't blame Dylan.  
  
"My sister's flustered you again."  
  
Connor looked over his shoulder. Dylan stood behind him with a pint glass in hand. Connor rolled his eyes. "She seems to enjoy it."  
  
"She's female, isn't she?"  
  
"And I'm sure she'd love to hear you bashing her sex." Connor smirked up at Dylan. "So would Mad Dog."  
  
"Which is why you won't be telling Aunt Saeth anything." Dylan shook a fist at Connor who snorted. "Want me to sneak you a beer?"  
  
Connor shook his head. "I know I told Cerridwen I'd dance with her again but I'm probably going to head home soon."  
  
Dylan's pale brow winkled. "Are you sure? The night's young."  
  
"I'm tired. I just can't sleep but I don't want to take more medication." Connor glanced around. He could swear someone was staring at him but the pub was too crowded for him to tell.  
  
Dylan clamped a hand on Connor's bony shoulder. "You might want to ask Savage if you can try something herbal."  
  
Connor made a face. "I'm trying to take nothing. I don't like how the stuff makes me feel. I wish I could just get rid of the dreams," he said, feeling guilty for saying it. His nightmares were part of his punishment and he deserved every terrifying moment of it.  
  
"I have something for dreams," Dylan said.  
  
Connor looked at him petulantly. "Alcohol or magic?"  
  
Understanding flickered in Dylan's blue eyes. "I know you approve of the former more than the latter but I was talking about a charm."  
  
Connor bobbed his head. "I'll try anything."  
  
Dylan clamped a hand on Connor's back. "I'll get Cerridwen to work one up for you." "Thanks." Connor got up, looking around, still feeling eyes on him. He couldn't find who it was, dismissing it as imagination. "I'm gonna go."  
  
"Okay."  
  
Connor watched Dylan fade back into the crowd. He headed for the door then paused for a moment outside the pub, just enjoying the lack of people. The summer night was relatively cooler. He wanted to take the long way home. He knew it was dangerous at night but he missed the action. The creepiest thing about rural Wales was that it was too quiet. No demons, no vampires, no nothing. He didn't know how to handle the silence. He needed action. He could feel the boredom eating at him and resolved to bring it up to Savage. Maybe it was part of his illness that he couldn't be content and peaceful. It worried him.  
  
He hadn't gone a block when he heard someone calling his name.  
  
"Connor, wait."  
  
The voice was too husky to be Cerridwen who had a melodious tone but the speaker was definitely a woman. He looked back over his shoulder. What he saw caused him to spin around so fast he nearly fell on his butt.  
  
"It is you. I thought I'd gone crazy." Justine raced up the sidewalk and threw her arms around him. "What are you doing in Wales?"  
  
"Justine?" Connor was too shocked to say more. He had always wondered what had happened to her even though he never expected he'd see her again. He suspected she had fled the moment Wesley let her go.  
  
"Did you come here after killing him?" She let him go, taking a step back.  
  
Connor looked around nervously to see if anyone could overhear them. The street was dark and deserted, making Connor feel even more uneasy. "He's not dead, Justine."  
  
Her expression screamed her disappointment. "Why not?"  
  
He waved her off. He didn't want to think about killing Angel. He had begun to see his father as someone he wanted in his life. Thoughts of killing in general just brought back nightmares about Cordy and the others. "I can't talk about this, Justine."  
  
"You promised Daniel." Her words, the harshness of her eyes, felt like a knife in his heart.  
  
Connor shrunk back. "It's too complicated. I can't...leave me alone, Justine. Just go...be happy, okay? Forget about Angel and me and Father."  
  
"Is that what you're doing here? Forgetting?" She shot him an accusatory look. She stabbed a finger against his chest.  
  
"I'll never forget," he whispered, angling back towards the pub. He needed his friends. He could feel himself coming unglued just thinking about all Justine represented. "I have to go. Don't follow me."  
  
"This isn't over, Connor."  
  
Connor was shocked when she didn't trail after him. He didn't expect her to give up so easily but maybe she hadn't actually given up. She was smart enough to know that pursuing him into a crowded pub would only cause a scene. She might have already been in Grasshoppers. Maybe she was the one he had felt staring at him. If so, then she knew he wasn't exactly alone.  
  
Connor fled back into the dimly lit pub and lost himself in the crowd. He wormed his way back to his friends' table. Cerridwen was nowhere to be seen but Dylan and Bron were there with a row of shot glasses lined up along with a pint of Guinness each.  
  
"Change your mind, Connor?" Dylan looked pleased.  
  
Connor looked back at the door but Justine didn't appear through it. "Yeah. Can I have a drink?"  
  
"Sit. I'll go snag you one," Bron said, popping up.  
  
"We were about to do shots of Irish whiskey. Want some?" Dylan pushed him a glass filled with amber liquid.  
  
"Okay." Connor thought about Savage's warnings not to mix alcohol and his medication. He knew he could get away with one beer which Bron quickly brought back. Something about seeing Justine had brought back too many dark memories. Thoughts of having to lop off Father's head to keep him from rising, the look in Angel's eyes as he and Justine welded the vampire into his coffin, the pain in his side as Angel threw him into the wall and told him Justine had lied to him, that she was the one who killed Holtz. What if that were true? One more betrayal to add to the heap. He needed the drink. Movies, tv and his friends had told him that alcohol could help make you feel better.  
  
"You gonna do shots, too, Connor?" Bron grinned at him.  
  
He lifted the shotglass, the smell of the liquid burning his nostrils. He thought maybe he shouldn't then decided if it was good enough for his friends, it was good enough for him. "Why not?"  
  
"Cause it's stupid," Cerridwen said, pushing through the crowd. All three men gave her a look, wondering where she had been.  
  
"Leave him alone, Cerridwen. A man's gotta do what he's gotta do," Bron said, lightly shoving his adoptive sister. "Fine." Cerridwen shoved him back then jostled Connor for good measure. "Be an edjit then."  
  
Connor looked into her angry green eyes then remembered the hurt he had seen in Justine's. He slammed the whiskey back, thoroughly unprepared for the burn. He gagged and choked as the whiskey ripped the breath from him. He could hear Dylan and Bron laughing at him but it sounded like they were far away. The roar of blood in his ears drowned them out.  
  
"Told you." A smug look settled on Cerridwen's face. "You're Irish, Connor. You should be able to handle this stuff," Dylan said smoothly putting down a shot.  
  
Connor coughed, reaching for another shot. "I'm fine." The second shot didn't go down any easier. Cerridwen slapped him on the back of the head as he put down a third then called him an edjit again before stalking off. The Guinness felt cold and soothing on his raw throat when he finally got to it. The room spun and he thought maybe Bron had gotten him a refill on his pint at some point. Savage's warning came back to haunt him. What if he had poisoned himself? No, he had taken his pills at dawn. It was nearly midnight now. He should be fine. And so what if he wasn't. Dying was too good for him after what he had done.  
  
"I feel dangerous," he said, or intended to. His tongue seemed to be in business for himself.  
  
"Drunk, you mean," Cerridwen sniffed, having returned to the table to hover over him protectively. He wasn't sure what she thought her brothers might do to him. He vacillated between appreciating her concern and wanting to tell her to just leave him alone.  
  
"I know just the thing for that," Dylan said, swaying a bit in his seat. "The dangerous bit, I mean. You're handling the drunk stuff well on your own."  
  
"What?" Connor tried blinking the two Dylans into one but couldn't quite get him to merge.  
  
"Coming home and going to bed." Cerridwen tried to tug Connor up but he slipped her grip like he was liquid.  
  
"Stop being a mother hen," Dylan chided. "Magic, Connor."  
  
Connor scowled, slinging back his hair. "I don't like magic."  
  
"I know but it's time you got a little of Rhys and Lowri's special artwork," Dylan said, polishing off his beer.  
  
Cerridwen pursed her lips. "Maybe you aren't as pissed as I thought, Dylan. Protective magic is good for a man who wants to be dangerous, Connor." She stroked his arm.  
  
He leaned his head against her shoulder since it was beginning to feel too heavy to hold up. "You think, Cerridwen?" "Sure. We all have some of that special artwork," she said, slipping an arm around him to support him.  
  
"This thing has saved me already," Bron said, tapping his biceps where a tattoo of the y Ddraig Goch, Cadwaller's red dragon stood protective just by the very look of him.  
  
"Okay, if you guys think so," Connor said, not really sure why he was giving in. He barely knew what he was agreeing to. All he knew was he felt very happy at this point and if his friends thought it was good for him then it had to be. "When do we do this?"  
  
"Let me make a call."  
  
One short cab ride later, Connor found himself swaying on the doorstep of Dylan's friends, Rhys and Lowri Coffin. They were the same age as Dylan and Connor had met them a few times before. The twins looked amazingly alike, thin almost wraithlike and Connor had been told he looked enough like them to be kin. He wasn't sure that was a compliment. Rhys was as feminine- looking as his sister. Both of them had propositioned him more than once. They made him nervous but tonight he was too drunk to care.  
  
"I was angry when you woke us up, Dylan sweetie," Rhys said, shaking a finger at the blond young Watcher-in-Training. "But when you said Connor was finally ready for ink we were wide awake."  
  
"I already pulled out some transfers from you to choose from, Connor," Lowri said, running a hand along his arm. "Unless you have an idea what you want done."  
  
Connor shook his head. "This is their idea."  
  
"You liked this one the last time you were here," Rhys shoved a picture under Connor's nose. He remembered it. Lowri had been so pleased that the design had captured his imagination.  
  
"I liked that a lot." He more than liked it. He had thought it was beautiful when she had first shown it to him. Remembrance of that shone through the alcoholic fog.  
  
"Any idea where you want it?" Lowri asked, leading him back into the shop her parents and she and her twin worked out of.  
  
Connor thought for a moment then said, "My right shoulder blade."  
  
"Excellent choice, let's get this shirt off of you," Rhys said, tugging at Connor's clothing.  
  
Connor took a step back nervously, remembering the time Rhys had tried to kiss him. He hadn't liked that. Still, he stripped off his shirt. He laid stomach down on what looked like an exam table, following Lowri's hand gesture, and let her inspect his back.  
  
"You have such fine, pale skin. This will look beautiful," Lowri assured him. "What sort of spell did you have in mind, Dylan?"  
  
"Protection," Dylan said and Connor looked at him, searching for answers. He didn't like magic and being reminded of what he was about to submit to set off alarms in his brain. A reassuring look from Dylan silenced them.  
  
Rhys nodded. "Given who he hangs out with, maybe something to alert him to demon activity ought to be added."  
  
Connor only had a vague idea what this magic was or what it meant but he didn't understand the worried look on Dylan's face when Rhys mentioned demons. Dylan said something to the young artist in Welsh. Lowri picked up scissors and cut off a small lock of his hair.  
  
"We need this for the spell," she said, sprinkling the hair on a bed of herbs lining a silver tray.  
  
"What do I need to do?" Connor asked as Lowri arranged the ink containers on the tray.  
  
"Just lie there," Bron said as Lowri and Rhys started chanting over the inks they had set out.  
  
"And try not to cry like a baby," Dylan said as Cerridwen sponged off his shoulder with alcohol. "Because we will laugh."  
  
Connor lifted his head, panic in his blue eyes. "Cry?"  
  
"You'll see." Dylan grinned.  
  
Lowri put the picture Connor had liked so much previously down on his skin, leaving the transfer behind on his flesh. She and Rhys pulled on latex gloves and set to work. Connor knew immediately what Dylan had meant the instant the ink worked like liquid fire into his body.  
  
"Try not to fidget, Connor. We're going to be here for hours," Lowri said and Connor wanted to change his mind. But he knew it was too late so he gave into the drag of the alcohol and slept through a good portion of the process. 


	5. The Morning After Blues

CHAPTER FIVE See his eyes and how they start with light  
  
Getting colder as the pictures go  
  
Did he carry his bad luck upon his back?  
  
That bad luck we've all come to know  
  
Suzanne Vega - Blood Sings  
  
Connor woke up feeling horrible and for some reason, damp and cold as well. He rolled onto his back, wincing. His shoulder hurt so he flopped back over, keeping his eyes squeezed shut. He instinctively knew light would hurt them.  
  
"So you are alive." Saeth sounded angry and it made Connor grimace.  
  
Connor knew he was in trouble if Mad Dog had entered his room. He didn't know when he got home last night. He didn't even remember leaving the pub. All he knew was his tongue felt moldy and his head throbbed in time with his heart.  
  
"So he is," Giles said.  
  
"Am I late for work?" Connor moaned, tasting bile in the back of his mouth. He couldn't stop salivating, a clear sign that he was going to vomit.  
  
"It's Saturday, Connor. You don't work on the weekends," Savage replied.  
  
Connor groaned. If he opened his eyes he'd see all three of his guardians looking at him grimly. He was in so much trouble and so long as he didn't look the trouble couldn't get him. He knew that was a lie but it made him feel good for a moment. Cracking open his eyes he saw he was face down on grass. He flipped back over, flinching again. He stared up at the sky. "Where am I?"  
  
"Believe it or not, you aren't in a ditch somewhere," Saeth snapped. "Somehow you made it to my gardens." She prodded him with a toe. "Get up."  
  
Connor sat up. His stomach lurched and he managed not to puke all over his guardians. The rose bushes weren't as lucky.  
  
"Well, that's a pretty sight." Saeth swept his hair back out of his face.  
  
Connor wiped his chin. "I feel terrible."  
  
"And well you should. You're lucky you're not in a coma. What did I tell you about alcohol?" Savage hauled Connor up.  
  
"Not to drink it. I was only going to have one beer. You said I could have just one," Connor said defensively, wobbling on weak legs.  
  
"When did one become half the keg?" Giles crossed his arms, frowning at Connor.  
  
Connor managed a petulant look that didn't impress Giles, not after years of watching over Buffy. "It didn't. I only had two beers." Connor wove a bit; standing up was hard. He felt like retching again. "But there were some shots of Irish whiskey."  
  
"Why did you decide to get drunk?" Savage let him go, taking a step back as if anticipating further gastric mishaps.  
  
Connor shook his head, turning as he went to his knees. He gave the rest of his stomach contents to the roses.  
  
"I think he's already learned his lesson," Giles said.  
  
Connor had to agree with that. No more drinking for him. And he couldn't answer Savage's question. He barely remembered last night. He had vague memories of Justine but was that real or one of his nightmares? He couldn't clearly remember anything beyond dancing with Rhiannon. He decided he couldn't tell Savage he had seen Justine. What if it wasn't real? What if she were a hallucination? Savage would increase his medication and he couldn't bear that. He thought maybe he could smell her on his clothes but it was faint, almost ghost-like. The information his nose carried to him was of dew, stale alcohol, pungent vomit, cigarette smoke and his own body odor. The hints of Justine could be just because he was expecting it. Were he entirely sober and not feeling like he had just survived a day-long fight with a Saikipr demon, he wouldn't swear to being able to detect her scent. He tried to get up and his shoulder hit him with fire again. He moaned, reaching for it.  
  
"Hurt yourself?" Savage's voice sounded a little softer than it had.  
  
"I don't remember and I don't know why I got drunk. I guess I was trying to be like Dylan and Bron." Connor paused, flashing a horrified look at his companions. He hadn't meant to get his friends into trouble then realized the adults would have guessed he hadn't been out alone. "I didn't know how much I had drank. Cerridwen tried to warn me."  
  
"Their parents will deal with them. Cerridwen isn't old enough to be in a pub and certainly not to be out all night. I'll deal with you later, Connor," Saeth said, turning him around so she could look at his back. She eased his shirt up. "Any reason you have gauze all over your shoulder?"  
  
Connor's brow beetled. "I don't remember."  
  
"Let's get you to the bathroom so we can have a look at whatever it is you did to yourself." She propelled him toward the house.  
  
Connor didn't protest. He stumbled into the downstairs bathroom and took off his shirt. Giles brought him a sports drink while Savage got out a first aid kit. "This will make you feel a little better," the older man promised as Saeth peeled the gauze away.  
  
A smile flitted across her full lips. "Connor, do you remember paying a call on the Coffins last night?"  
  
He shook his head, instantly regretting it. It felt like taking a bat upside his forehead and it made his stomach flip. "No. Rhys makes me nervous."  
  
"Rhys makes everyone nervous. Here's another lesson for you. When you're drunk, you do silly things." She turned Connor so his back was to the mirror.  
  
He looked over his shoulder. Under the bandage was a fresh tattoo that took up most of his right shoulder blade. Depicted in sharp red and blue was a triskele of hounds surrounded by a circle of Celtic knotwork. Licks of triangular knotwork flickered off the circle like rays, depicting the sun.  
  
Connor's jaw dropped. He had let the Coffins touch him? How had this happened? "I remember this. Lowri drew it and I really liked it. How'd it get on my back?"  
  
"Someone convinced your dumb ass a tattoo was a good idea," Saeth said, taking a tube of antibiotic ointment out of the kit. "This doesn't wash off, you know."  
  
"I'll call the Coffins and see what kind of spell they wove into the tattoo," Giles said, disappearing down the hall.  
  
"Am I in trouble?" Connor gave Mad Dog a nervous look. He wasn't too worried about Savage. The psychiatrist was too laid back to get really angry but Saeth was another story.  
  
"Not for the tattoo. There's no one in this house who doesn't have ink. The Coffins' art magic has helped me more than once." Saeth smeared the ointment over the fresh tattoo. "But beware, tattoos are addictive."  
  
"As for the drinking, consider yourself grounded," Savage said, surprising Connor. He hadn't expected him to hand down the punishment. "You go to work and that's it. And no one will be visiting you here. And you'll write a ten page report on a demon of your choice, natural habitat, how it kills and how you kill it."  
  
Connor frowned as Saeth covered his shoulder in soft gauze. This punishment was too much. He was used to getting a strapping and getting over it. Savage tapped the boy's lower lip.  
  
"Put the lip away. Pouting won't help you."  
  
Connor's eyes darkened. "I feel terrible."  
  
"I'm sure you do," Savage replied. "Get some sleep...in your bed this time. When you wake up and shower come find one of us so we can redress that tat."  
  
Connor nodded and dragged to his room. Canaid was on his bed. He didn't have the strength to push the dog off. The king-sized bed was big enough for them both. He climbed in and Canaid licked his face. He shoved her away but she kept licking him. He fell asleep with her licking his hand.  
  
Connor woke late in the afternoon. His caretakers were kinder to him this time and allowed him his rest, unlike the first time he got drunk. Connor scowled, remembering when Dylan and Bron had gotten him, and themselves, totally pissed. Saeth had found them unconscious amidst the beer bottles and nacho remains in her living room. As punishment she had let Cerridwen and Arian strip all three of them, paint their bodies, cloth them in dresses and put make up on them. He remembered his terror waking up the next day, sick as a dog and painted up under his dress. There were pictures at all stages of this endeavor. He still blushed thinking about it. He didn't know which one of them had painted his penis like a flower and he didn't want to. Saeth had made him go to work hung over.  
  
He dragged into the shower. The water felt like hail on his throbbing head as he washed the stink off his body. If the others could smell him, and they couldn't tell much with their poor senses, he knew he had to stink.  
  
Afterward Connor looked at the tattoo again as best he could in the big mirror. It was pretty. He liked it. He made eye contact with himself in the mirror. Had he always looked so hard? His eyes so dead? He couldn't remember. There was something scary about him and he wished he knew how to change it.  
  
After pulling on pants, he searched the house for someone to help him with the tattoo. Savage and Mad Dog weren't around but Giles was in the library reading something. He glanced up, hearing Connor stumbling in far more noisily than his norm.  
  
"Need help?" Giles set his book aside when Connor nodded.  
  
They went into the bathroom and Giles got the first aid kit.  
  
"It's a handsome tattoo," Giles said, putting ointment over it.  
  
"Lowri said she drew it for me the first time she showed me the sketch," Connor said, fidgeting. Giles forcibly rooted him. "She said it captured what she saw in me, something about a relentless warrior and sunlight. Kinda nuts since I don't see much sunlight."  
  
"Perhaps not. However, the Celts have long identified hounds with their great warriors," Giles said, layering the gauze over the tattoo.  
  
"What kind of magic did they use on me?" Connor shot Giles a wary look. "It's a protection spell. It makes it a little harder to harm you. They added something to help warn you if a demon's approaching, much like the spell Saeth uses. The tattoo will feel warm in their presence but the demons have to be relatively close. Still, some warning is better than none." "That's good then," Connor mumbled, trying to imagine how he had allowed magic to be used on him.  
  
"Yes. Maybe you should try to eat," Giles suggested, putting the last bit of tape to anchor the gauze over Connor's shoulder.  
  
Connor nodded and headed for the kitchen. He poked around the fridge but nothing looked very good. His stomach still felt like it wanted to crawl out his craw but he picked out a dish of leftover pastai gocos and put it in the microwave. Less than halfway through heating it, the smell of the cockle pie nearly made him vomit. Any other time it would have made his mouth water but his hangover wasn't done with him yet. He put it back in the fridge and grabbed up another sports drink. He found a bag of salt and vinegar crisps and took them into the living room.  
  
He stretched out on the couch and turned on the tv. He found one of the history programs Mad Dog was addicted to and left it on. Let everyone think he was trying to learn while he turned his brain off and relaxed and ate crisps.  
  
The phone rang but Connor ignored it, picking up the artist's tablet Savage had gotten for him. Let Giles answer the phone. He wasn't allowed to talk to anyone being grounded so he decided that extended to picking up the phone. He flipped open the table and looked at the things he had drawn. Frightening images, mostly of things from Quor-Toth, prowled the pages. He knew Savage had put him on this path to explore his inner mind. Savage encouraged Connor to continue as a hobby. Connor was surprised he enjoyed it so much. It was sedentary and he never had had time before for pastimes. But he had a talent for it. He took pride in that. He didn't consider himself good at much beyond killing so he tried to practice often. Dylan had him singing with his little band to encourage him to grow artistically and Giles was teaching him guitar. He drew better than he did either but he enjoyed music, too.  
  
"Yes, I'll talk to Savage about it," Giles was saying into the portable phone as he walked into the room. "Would you like to speak to him? He's sitting right here eating crisps instead of real food." Giles shot Connor a perturbed look.  
  
Connor's eyebrows raised, questioningly.  
  
"It's your father," Giles said.  
  
Connor's puzzled look deepened. His father never called. They always called Angel. He took the phone. "Hi, Dad."  
  
"Hello, son." Angel's voice was more relaxed than Connor remembered in being in a long time. "I would have thought you'd be out with your new friends, it being a Saturday." Connor realized Giles hadn't ratted him out so he had no plans of telling Angel he was grounded. "I don't feel so good. I have a bad headache. Is there something wrong? We just talked."  
  
"Just some business I needed to talk to Giles about." Angel's voice changed, now disappointed and guarded. It made Connor's hackles rise. "Do you feel up to talking, Connor? Or does your head hurt too much?"  
  
Connor rolled up the opening of the crisp bag. "I can talk."  
  
"Good." Connor heard the excitement flooding into his father's voice. It was unusual. Angel was always so reserved when talking to him ever since it happened. "I think you'll get a laugh out of what happened to Faith and Kate last night."  
  
"I'm listening," Connor said then sucked the crisp grease and salt off his fingers. Angel was right. He was more than a little amused at the misadventures of Faith, Kate, an abandoned theater, a rainy night and one wet, angry cat. They had gotten a call from the people renovating the theater about a haunting. A haunting by a cat who had leapt out of half done stairs nearly scaring Kate to death. It led them on a wild chase, mostly because Faith was too stubborn to let the thing go after it dive- bombed her from the mezzanine. She had finally caught it an hour later when it had stopped to clean itself. When Faith picked it up, the cat wasn't cleaning itself. It had been licking a live rat it was toying with. The rat landed on Faith's head. The cat went home with Kate and the theater got billed for a night of animal control.  
  
Connor didn't know why Angel was telling him this. It was like something had changed between them and for the better. And the picture of Faith running around the theater with a rat clinging to her head was worth the story. Connor had sketched while he listened, not really paying attention to what his hands were doing.  
  
"I'd better go, son. Wesley will hit the roof when he sees the phone bill," Angel said.  
  
"Okay. Tell him I said hello. Faith, too."  
  
"I will," Angel replied and was gone.  
  
Connor looked down at his sketch book. Justine looked up from it at him. He frowned, shutting her image up in the tablet as Giles appeared from the kitchen carrying a tea tray loaded down with cups a pot, the cream and sugar and two plates of bara brith. The speckled fruit bread was smeared with butter.  
  
"This might be more appropriate than crisps. It's a little past tea time but neither of us really pay much mind to that," Giles said a little wistfully.  
  
"Thanks." Connor helped Giles pour the tea. "What did Dad want?"  
  
Giles gave him a guilty look, shoving his glasses up. "Just business." Connor nodded, taking his plate of bread. Identical answers. That meant it had to do with him and they didn't want him to know. Well, he didn't want them to know about Justine, at least not yet so they were even. He gingerly ate the bread, thinking about her. Real or figment of his imagination? He'd have to discover that for himself. 


	6. Complications

Author's Note - After a long hiatus I'm slowly getting back to this fanfic and giving it my full attention again. THANK YOU for sticking with me D.  
  
CHAPTER SIX  
  
And my question to you is:  
  
How did this come to pass?  
  
How did this one life fall so far and fast? Blood Sings - Suzanne Vega  
  
Connor resisted the urge to scratch at his tattooed shoulder but it itched terribly. Savage had wondered if his healing ability would actually take away the ink but so far it looked bright and clear. He was enjoying being out in the fresh air. Being grounded sucked but he had gotten a reprieve to help Cerridwen do her shopping.  
  
Cerridwen had dumped him when she went into a boutique, knowing he didn't want to shop for women's clothes. It suited him just fine to sit in the park. It felt good to have the breeze on his face. It might clear his head. He was still having delusions that he had seen Justine.  
  
He shut his eyes, his head falling back to let his face drink in the sun. Sensing someone standing in front of him, he cracked open an eye, feeling his mouth drop open. "I didn't dream you."  
  
"Why would you think that?" Justine sat on the bench beside him. Her fine hair ruffled in the breeze.  
  
He crunched into the arm rest, trying to confirm what his eyes told him. Scent backed up his sight. "What are you doing here, Justine?"  
  
"Looking for you." Justine took his hand, her face softening. "I thought maybe I could find you before you drifted out of town. How did you ever find this place?"  
  
It was then he realized how hard she truly was. Her eyes seemed cold, warming just a bit upon seeing him. The lines of her mouth were tight, like a knife's edge. The hand holding his felt like beach sand against skin. She looked older than she was, tired and washed out. "I'm not drifting," he told her.  
  
"How did you get here?" she persisted, waving a hand at the buildings. "Wales is a world away from Los Angeles."  
  
"With a friend. What are you doing here, Justine?" Connor wondered why he was so paranoid about giving her any information. She had been kind to him. Father had cared for her. She had shared in Father's death, helping him care for the man's body after the beast had slain him. Of course, if Angel was to be believed, it was Justine who had killed Holtz. That was part of his problem. Connor didn't know who to believe. If Justine told the truth, then Angel slaughtered Holtz; if not then she was a murderer. At one time the idea of Angel being a killer would have made Connor feel justified in his hatred of his father but now he found himself wanting to believe in Angel's love. It was hard. Thinking Justine could have been Holtz's killer was even worse because that meant she lied to him, that he had done that horrible thing to Angel for the wrong reasons. Angel still deserved it for what he had done to Father's family but that wasn't why Connor had devised something so devilish as a punishment.  
  
"When Wes let me go, I knew Angel would come to kill me so I took off. I left the country and disappeared the best I could." She let his hand go as he puzzled out what she meant by Wes having her. That explained how someone had found Angel. Connor had known deep down it couldn't have been by accident. "I'm guessing that's what you did, too."  
  
Connor scanned the store fronts willing Cerridwen to stay where she was and not find him with Justine. He didn't want to have to explain who Justine was nor did he want to lie to his friends. "Not exactly."  
  
"Did he hurt you, Connor, for what you did?" Concern colored her voice as she caressed his cheek. Her hands seemed to scrape over his smooth shaven skin.  
  
Connor looked away, shifting uncomfortably. "No, well, not much. He threw me around a little then tossed me out of the hotel."  
  
Justine stiffened. "Into the streets of L.A? He tossed you out there to be killed. He knows how dangerous L.A. can be, especially to a kid who doesn't know the rules."  
  
"He tried to make it up to me later," Connor offered, thinking about the one lame attempt Angel had actually made to get him to come back. It took losing his home before his father took him back. Maybe he hadn't deserved a home. He was sure that's what Angel's friends would have said if he hadn't killed them all. He knew they would have been right.  
  
"I hope you didn't fall for that," she said, the lines around her eyes deepening.  
  
Connor shrugged then surprised himself by defending the man. "Angel really tried. Father wanted me to live with Angel."  
  
Justine's brow beetled as she brushed back her washed out hair. "What are you talking about?"  
  
"Father gave Angel a letter. Holtz told me himself, he wanted me to live with my real father."  
  
She shook her head. "That doesn't make any sense."  
  
"I know." Connor stared at his hands, feeling tears pricking at his eyes. "But it's true. It hurt so much." He rubbed his eyes, trying to hold in his emotions. "I don't know why he wanted it Justine but he did. Both of my fathers threw me away. What's wrong with me?" "No!" she said, sharply, dragging him against her. "Daniel must have known he would die, Connor. He wanted Angel to trust you. He had to have thought that was for the best. If Angel trusted you, you'd have a better chance of hurting him."  
  
He pulled away from her, composing himself. "Maybe. I don't want to talk about it."  
  
"I should have just taken you and ran as soon as we dumped Angel in the ocean. We both would have been better off. We could have hunted vampires half a world away from him." She smiled softly and he considered that. It held a certain appeal. "I could have shown you the ranch in Utah or the White Cliffs of Dover. Daniel would have wanted that."  
  
"Can't turn back time." Connor wrinkled his nose. "At least not without a lot of magic."  
  
Justine cocked her head, maybe puzzling out how he'd know that. He wished he hadn't thought about it. He'd give a lot to turn back time so Cordy, Gunn, Fred and Lorne would be alive.  
  
"Why didn't you try to kill him once Wesley fished him up?" Justine asked, her eyes sharp like a predator's.  
  
Connor got the impression she was testing to see if he had betrayed Father. The truth was he had. "Why didn't you?"  
  
"If Wesley could kidnap me, I realized Angel would have no troubles getting hold of me. I needed to put space between me and him. But I think the Fates had something in mind for us, Connor. I mean, why else would our paths cross here in the middle of nowhere?" Her face brightened momentarily. "We're a team again. It'll be good."  
  
"No." Connor shook his head. "I can't leave."  
  
"Why not? It's what Daniel would have wanted, us working together." She brushed his hair out of his eyes. "He wanted me to take care of you."  
  
He tried not to flinch at her touch. Between Rhiannon, Cerridwen and Arian, he had gotten used to being touched but he wasn't particularly thrilled by it. Mad Dog didn't touch him much but he wished she would. "I know but I've got a place here. I have a job. I'm taking classes. I've been adopted into a cool family," he said earnestly, wondering if he should even mention it. A little voice in his head was telling him she was dangerous. He wished he knew why.  
  
Justine sat back, surprise in her eyes. "Aren't you old for adoption?"  
  
He shrugged. "I guess you'd call it fostering but they say I'm family. What I'm trying to say is this is my home now. I don't want to leave. I feel normal for the first time."  
  
Her lips curled in disgust. He could see the depths of her disappointment. "You weren't meant to be normal, Connor. You're special. I was normal until vampires killed my twin. You can't go from this crazy life back to being normal. You might be able to fake it for a little while but the weirdness won't let you go."  
  
"I'm not like you, Justine. I've never been normal. I just want my chance." He realized that was true. He hadn't ever consciously thought about it but it was true.  
  
"I understand. Just so you know, Connor, when the bottoms falls out on normalcy, it'll be heart-wrenching." She didn't sound like she was warning him as so much as predicting his doom and enjoying being able to say 'told you so.'  
  
"Pain and I are friends," he assured her, looking around trying to see if Cerridwen was around yet. Something told him the Maddocs and Justine would mix like oil and vinegar.  
  
"I'll be around for a while, Connor, in case you need me." She gave him an impulsive hug but it felt awkward, like she wasn't used to giving them. It lacked the warmth of Cordelia's hugs or the sensuality of Faith's. Cerridwen managed to blend the best of those two women into one but Justine felt too hard to be giving out embraces. "Even if you don't leave with me, I'd like to be your friend."  
  
"Okay."  
  
She tucked an errant strand of her hair back as her eyes narrowed. "Only maybe you shouldn't tell your new family I'm here."  
  
The warning bells went off in his head. "I was thinking that myself."  
  
"I just have one more question. Do you know where your father is, Connor?" She got up, looking down at him.  
  
"I know."  
  
"And yet you haven't avenged Holtz's death." Her eyes went to stone. "Why is that?"  
  
Connor let his dyed hair fall over his face, hiding behind it. "That's more than one question."  
  
"Don't dance around it." Her words cracked like Father's switch against his backside.  
  
"Father knew I wouldn't be able to kill Angel. He told me so." Connor grabbed the bench's metal arm. It creaked ominously. "Maybe he was right."  
  
"It was the only thing he ever wanted. I don't believe that he'd change his mind," Justine said, hotly.  
  
"Father did tell me I didn't have it in me to kill my real father. Maybe I don't want to kill Angel," Connor said, defiantly. He tossed his head back.  
  
Justine's face registered shock. "I thought...I didn't expect to be wrong about that."  
  
And Connor suspected she was thinking the same thing he was. If she was wrong about that, what else had she been wrong about? What had he been wrong about? She spun on heel and headed off.  
  
She turned back, looking suddenly more forgiving, "I'll see you around."  
  
"Okay. I'm usually in town at lunch time."  
  
Connor watched until she disappeared then glanced around for Cerridwen. He didn't see her. He didn't want to think about why he said yes to Justine. Why hadn't he just cut ties? He knew it would be easier that way, safer. But she had risked herself for him and Father. He owed her something.  
  
He put Justine out of his mind. Figuring he had given Cerridwen plenty of time, and he might be pushing the time off the leash he had been given, he headed into the boutique. She wasn't inside so he headed to her next favorite store, a fancy pet shop full of gourmet treats and stuff to pamper pets. He didn't understand it. He loved Caniad and all of Saeth's wolfhounds and Rhiannon's corgis but they were just as happy with plain old dog food as they were with very expensive handmade biscuits so why go through the expense? If they really wanted to please their pets, why not shovel up some roadkill since that's what dogs seemed to like best. Cerridwen should go pick up a squashed rabbit for her wolfhound, Boogiepop Phantom.  
  
As he poked through the flavors of biscuits, he mulled things over. Had he made a giant mistake agreeing to see Justine again? He hated thinking that he might have. There were things she needed to know about him, about what had happened and he didn't think he could tell her. He also knew that he should tell his guardians about Justine but they'd tell Wes and Angel. He wasn't ready for them to know. It might not be safe for Justine. Of course, he didn't know if he should even be concerned with that. He knew Justine had tried to kill Wes. It was only sheer luck she wasn't a murderer. Maybe that was one of the cruces of his worry. Of course, he could be wrong about that. She might be a murderer, if Angel wasn't lying about who killed Holtz. He just couldn't see Justine killing Holtz. It had to be Angelus even if he didn't want to believe that either.  
  
He shoved it from his thoughts. It was too late to change his mind. Well, he could always avoid her but he knew he wouldn't. He sniffed, filtering Cerridwen's scent out from all the dogs'. She had been in here but he didn't see her. He paused in his search to look at a doggie birthday cake. Did dogs even know their birthdays? He had never even had a birthday cake, not once, no parties, nothing so how did a dog warrant?  
  
"I sense deep thoughts."  
  
Connor looked over his shoulder at Cerridwen, wondering where she had been hiding. At nearly six feet tall, she should have been easy to spot. Her ample breasts, barely restrained by her paisley halter top, momentarily distracted him. Doggie birthdays, keeping secrets, trusting Justine, being grounded, that all froze over as he got caught in those two mounds of tanned flesh. Hearing her cough in warning he made instant eye contact and said, "I was thinking Caniad probably has had more birthday cakes than me." He pointed to the cake.  
  
Cerridwen wrinkled her nose at him. "Can you honestly see Mad Dog having a birthday party for a dog?"  
  
"Mad Dog, no." Connor grinned. "But I'm not so sure about Savage."  
  
"I'm telling him you said so. Are you telling me you've never had a cake, Connor?" She gave him a sympathy hug.  
  
"Nope. Don't even know when my birthday is." He shrugged. "My ID says November twelfth but who knows."  
  
"I think Angel told them that date." Cerridwen thumped his arm. "Ready to go?"  
  
He rolled his eyes. "I'm only here 'cause I got tired of waiting for you."  
  
"I'm done." Cerridwen shoved the shopping bags in his hands and flounced out of the store.  
  
"Do you think Angel told them my real birthday?" He followed her on the long walk back to her grandmother's place where she was staying for the summer.  
  
"I don't see why he wouldn't." Cerridwen gave him a long appraising look. She slowed down in the park where he had been talking with Justine, in no hurry to get home. "I'm sure it's right. You're such a Scorpio."  
  
His eyes slotted. "What's that mean?"  
  
"Means you're stubborn, hot tempered and cranky." She gave him a cattish grin.  
  
He scowled. "I am not!"  
  
"Uh-huh," she replied, airily. "Also means you're romantic and passionate."  
  
"I am that...or I could be." He gave her a hopeful look. "What are you?"  
  
"Gemini, I'm the twins."  
  
He took another look at her chest. Parts of him showed his appreciation of the view by growing longer and thicker. "I'll buy that."  
  
She swatted him. "I said I am the twins, not that I have them, but thank you for noticing. I was beginning to think you were more in line with Rhys' take on the dating scene." "I don't like Rhys...well, not like that." Connor shot her the evil eye. "Rhys is fun but I like girls."  
  
"I can see you like parts of them." Her green eyes flicked towards his crotch.  
  
Connor's face made like a ruby and he turned his back, stopping in his tracks . "You can't judge by that. It has a mind of its own."  
  
She shoved him lightly. "Oh, do you know how many times I've heard that from my brothers over whatever girl they were ogling?"  
  
"Isn't that why you wear shirts like that? Because you want us to notice?" Connor asked plaintively, turning back to face her, no less aroused.  
  
"Yes, but you're not supposed to act like you're noticing. So, what do you plan on doing with that?" Cerridwen grinned, her eyes below his belt line.  
  
He covered his crotch with her shopping bags, looking mortified. "Everyone in your family is a mage. I even think of touching you, I could end up a toad or worse."  
  
"Scaredy cat." She giggled, rubbing her hip against him.  
  
"You have no mercy," he breathed then dropped onto a bench in the park.  
  
"You plan on just sitting there?" She ran a hand over his hair, her eyes soft and inviting. "I know somewhere we can go that isn't crawling with my siblings."  
  
Connor's breath caught. He wanted to say yes but he couldn't take advantage of her. She was younger than him and her family trusted him, made him one of them. He couldn't betray that, no matter how much Cerridwen was able to make him want her. "Safer just to sit for a minute or two."  
  
Cerridwen scowled. "In other words, you're gonna do nothing. Fine, see you at home then." She headed off without him. "Don't lose my packages.  
  
Connor settled the packages near him. He shut his eyes as he tried to find thoughts that would help reverse the flow of blood south. It didn't help that Cerridwen's scent lingered on the air. He could tell she hadn't just been teasing him. She would have made love to him if he had wanted it but it scared him. He didn't dare open himself up like that but even thoughts of making that kind of emotional connection didn't quell his own sinful thoughts. A mental cocktail of Quor-Toth and Angel did the trick.  
  
"Enjoying the fine afternoon?"  
  
Hearing the Irish lilt, Connor opened his eyes. "Hello, Savage, Giles. Heading to the pub?"  
  
"A reward for a hard day's work," Savage replied.  
  
"Any reason you're just sitting in the park?" Giles asked.  
  
"Getting ready to take these home." Connor nudged the packages with a toe.  
  
"You?" Shopping?" Giles' eyebrows arched. He picked up a bag and peeked inside, pulling out brilliant scarlet underpants. His inquisitive look deepened.  
  
"Those are Cerridwen's." Connor grabbed the panties, shoving them in the bag, his face matching their hue.  
  
"Uh-huh and what kind of evening did you have planned for her?" Savage asked, pulling a large red and rhinestone dog collar and matching leash out of the other bag.  
  
"That's hers! I don't know what she bought. I'm just carrying the bags." Connor snatched the leash away.  
  
Giles tried not to grin at the boy's discomfort. He gently changed the subject. "Where is she?"  
  
"Gone home." Connor's voice picked up a sulky tone.  
  
"Why aren't you with her?" Savage asked.  
  
Connor squirmed on the bench. "I had to sit down."  
  
Giles smirked. "Ah, it's terrible growing up, so to speak."  
  
"Oh, shut up!" Connor crossed his arms over his chest.  
  
"Touched a nerve there, Rupert." Savage smiled.  
  
"Not as many as Cerridwen touched." Giles flashed an impish grin then shuddered. "Those bloody California kids have corrupted me."  
  
Savage snorted. "Try that on someone who hasn't known you forever. They just put you in touch with who you really are and it's a good thing. Just like Cerridwen puts Connor in touch with his tallywhacker."  
  
Connor looked up at the psychiatrist, momentarily slack jawed. He snapped his mouth shut and flashed them the bird. "Aren't you a few pints behind at this point?"  
  
Giles winced, shaking his head mouthing the word, 'no.' Savage just grinned wickedly. "I see I'm dealing with a cheeky little bastard who wants me to schedule a full body exam, inside and out."  
  
Connor's chin jutted out. "You started this. Besides, you're just a head doctor. You can't do the inside stuff."  
  
"Really?" Savage did his best 'Spock's eyebrow.' "You think I don't know any other doctors, ones who'd love to do me a favor in the pursuit of a patient's health?"  
  
Connor's pout grew. He got up, grabbing the bags. "You don't have the nerve," he said with less conviction than showed in his face. He stalked off, knowing they were too polite to laugh at him publically but he knew they would once they were in the pub. He knew he shouldn't let it get to him but it did a little. It wasn't as if Cerridwen and her brothers didn't constantly poke fun at him, because they did. Giles, Savage and Mad Dog did it often, too. He had asked him to when he noticed that they joked with Dylan and his friends and family but not with him. They had treated him like he was fragile until he insisted they tease him like they did everyone else. At first it felt good then it made him feel guilty. It was the urge to laugh with them that bothered him. He didn't deserve to feel good.  
  
Cerridwen wasn't in the living room of Rhiannon's home when he got back. Her brothers, Dylan and Bron, were sacked out in front of the television.  
  
"Took you long enough," Dylan said, burying a hand in a bag of crisps. "We were ready to send a search party for you."  
  
"Only we didn't want to see what you might be doing that took so long," Bron added, hitching up on the couch.  
  
"Drop dead. Cerridwen couldn't have come home more than five minutes ago," Connor argued.  
  
"I see she made you the pack mule again." Bron gestured at the shopping bags.  
  
"Yeah." Connor tossed them on the coffee table. "She here?"  
  
"Yep."  
  
"Hey, Cerridwen, Giles pawed your new panties," Connor called.  
  
"Probably pulled them off Connor's head," Dylan said as Cerridwen appeared to reclaim her packages.  
  
"I have never worn panties over my head, you pervert," Connor replied, slapping his friend. "Besides, they're new, no scent."  
  
Cerridwen shuddered. "I sometimes think being straight is a curse since it means putting up with you gross creatures."  
  
"We are what we are," Dylan said. "I have to get back to Mad Dog's place," Connor said. "I just needed to drop of Cerridwen's crap."  
  
"It's not crap," Cerridwen said, pulling out the panties, waving them like a flag.  
  
"Uh-huh. Is Nain in?" Connor asked.  
  
"She's still in the Watcher's complex," Bron said.  
  
"Okay. I'll get along home then," Connor said.  
  
"Running away so soon?" Dylan asked.  
  
"I've got that paper I have to do. I haven't even started writing it. I don't want grounded more." Connor sighed.  
  
"You're so responsible. It makes me queasy." Dylan grinned.  
  
"Just grew up that way," Connor said trying to figure out if that was a joke or an insult.  
  
"All the more reason to have fun now," Bron said.  
  
"Kinda not feeling fun," Connor said.  
  
"We've noticed," Cerridwen said, her green eyes darkening. She put the panties away, her playfulness gone. "Is there anything we can do? We're getting worried."  
  
Connor nibbled his lip. Had her flirtations just been to get him out of his depression, because she was worried about him? No, she had wanted him, he was sure of that. He just didn't understand other teenagers, especially the female ones. "I don't want you to worry about me. Just been doing a lot of remembering...not pretty stuff."  
  
"Sorry." Cerridwen kissed his cheek, pulling him against her athletic body. "You know you can ask us for help, tell us anything."  
  
He nodded, drinking in her comforting embrace. "I know. I appreciate it. You don't want to know what's up here though." He tapped his head.  
  
"We can handle scary stuff," Dylan said so soberly it frightened Connor. He had never seen the young man serious before, not like this. It gave him a hint of danger, an air of someone older than he was. All three of his friends seemed very adult at that moment.  
  
"If I need you, I'll let you know. Right now, I need to get home and work on that ten page paper on a demon." Connor hoped that would make them less worried about him, knowing he was doing work like usual. He took a step away from Cerridwen. "Which one did you pick?" Bron asked, accepting the topic change.  
  
"The duo of Angelus and Darla," Connor said, gauging their expressions, which were unanimously shocked.  
  
"Savage thought that was a good idea?" Dylan asked, still somber.  
  
Connor hesitated, wondering if he should have kept his mouth shut. They didn't seem very approving of his choice."We talked it over with Giles and Mad Dog and we agreed it's all well and good for them to tell me all the good stuff Dad's done now but it doesn't mean much out of context."  
  
"This has to be pretty ugly context," Cerridwen said, her eyes filling with pity for him. She gave hi hand a little squeeze.  
  
"It is but I want to know," He said earnestly. He meant it. He absolutely needed it. "I want to understand my parents."  
  
Cerrridwen wagged her head. "Good luck. No kid understands parents. They're like freaks, the lot of them."  
  
Connor frowned. "It can't be that bad. Your parents seem easy to understand."  
  
"That's because you don't live with them," she assured him. "They're insane."  
  
"I figured that's because they have too many kids." Connor grinned.  
  
"We kept telling them to sell a few on the open market but they won't listen." Dylan kicked his feet up on the table.  
  
"They'd probably start with you," Connor said, feeling a slight lift in his spirits.  
  
Cerridwen giggled and Bron said, "No doubt."  
  
"You're right, Connor, it is time for you to go home." Dylan stabbed a finger at the door, smiling.  
  
"See you later."  
  
Connor started the walk home. Maybe he could convince Mad Dog he should have a motorcycle. Not that he was incapable of walking, he just loved the speed of the motorcycle and the independence. Ever since Dylan had taught him to drive instead of waiting on the adults who seemed more interested in arguing over whose car would be sacrificed in his training, all Connor had wanted was either a fast little car or a motorcycle. Only he didn't had the nerve to ask for it.  
  
As he walked, he contemplated his situation, going back over ground he had already covered. He knew he should tell his guardians Justine was here. On the other hand, they kept encouraging him to find his own friends and to be independent. Connor knew if Angel got wind of it, he would never allow Connor to be friends with Justine. He didn't trust his son to make his own judgments. Given his and Justine's history, Connor knew if his guardians found out, they would automatically tell Angel.  
  
No, for now he'd keep quiet about it. After all, he wasn't sure if he wanted to be friends with Justine. He could tell she was angry about him not killing Angel. She might push him in that direction and given what Angel had done for him in regards to the killings in L.A., Connor didn't want his father dead. He'd meet with Justine and make his own decisions. He considered it a step towards being independent and adult. His guardians should be proud of him.  
  
Now if he could only figure out what he should do about Cerridwen. 


End file.
